Ornaments of Death Read Online Free Page A

my head in their direction.
    â€œGood for her!” Zoë whispered back.
    â€œI love her dress,” I added.
    Zoë tilted her head, considering Lia’s outfit. Her forest green satin sheath was short, stopping three or maybe even four inches above her knees, and it fit her as if it had been stitched onto her. The long sleeves only served to emphasize the sexiness. She wore black stilettos and dangling diamond earrings. I thought she looked like a million bucks.
    â€œIt would look better on an eighteen-year-old,” Zoë said.
    â€œI think she looks fabulous.”
    â€œNo question, she looks fantastic. That’s not the issue. The issue is what she’s trying to prove. She should dress her age.”
    â€œI think you’re being unfair. All I see is a seriously attractive thirty-eight-year-old woman maximizing her assets.” I glanced down at my own little black dress. The scalloped hem brushed the top of my knees. The scoop neck and three-quarter sleeves provided modest coverage. The heels on my sturdy black pumps were chunky and only two inches high. I wore a strand of pearls with matching stud earrings. I looked nice, in a conservative, appropriate way. It was my style, and I was okay with that, but secretly I wished I felt comfortable dressing like Lia—sexy and bold and glamorous. “I wish I looked that good.”
    â€œYou do.”
    â€œYou’re just saying that because you love me.”
    â€œNo, I’m not. You’re beautiful, Josie, but you dress your age, not like a bimbette.”
    â€œMaybe I’ll try dressing a little younger. Midthirties shouldn’t mean dowdy.”
    â€œYou don’t look dowdy.”
    â€œLooking at Lia, I feel dowdy.”
    I told Zoë I’d see her later and headed off, taking a circuitous route toward Ian and Lia, greeting people as I walked, pausing to chat with various friends and clients.
    â€œHi, guys!” I said when I joined them.
    â€œI’m glad you’re here,” Ian said, lowering his voice to a stage whisper, his eyes twinkling. “To impress Lia, I worked that we’re distant relations to Winston Churchill into our conversation. Back me up, okay?”
    â€œYou got it,” I replied, matching his tone, my eyes twinkling, too. I puffed out my chest. “Ian and I are related to Winston Churchill.”
    Lia giggled with delight.
    â€œSo is that a yes to dinner?” Ian asked her.
    â€œYes,” she said, looking happier than I’d seen her in I couldn’t recall how long. It was as if she’d shed her year of despair in an hour.
    Ian looked at me. “Thanks, cuz.” He puffed out his chest, mimicking me. “She said yes.”
    â€œWinston Churchill is a draw.”
    Lia laughed. “Ian knows I would have said yes no matter who he was related to.”
    â€œI take nothing for granted. Expect the best and plan, plan, plan, so you never see the worst. And this”—Ian spread his arms wide, changing the subject—“is definitely the best. What a magical party, Josie! The decor is remarkable. I wish Becca were here to enjoy it.”
    â€œYou only have the one child?” Lia asked.
    â€œYes. She’s in Boston for the year, working on a marine biology research project. And you? Any children?”
    â€œNone, I’m afraid.”
    â€œMaybe you will one day.”
    â€œHmmm,” Lia murmured. She sipped her drink, gazing at Ian over the glass rim, holding his eyes. “I bet you’re a wonderful dad.”
    Ian shifted his attention to the band. The ensuing silence lengthened and grew increasingly awkward.
    â€œNow that Josie’s Antiques has been renewed,” I said, jumping in, “maybe Becca will let me use those miniatures on air.” I turned to Lia and explained about the pair of seventeenth-century watercolor paintings.
    â€œI’ll ask her,” Ian said. “I should think she’d